


Treat Christmas With Kindness: A Harry Styles Advent Calendar

by bijasi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Briefly Implied Self Hatred, Canon Compliant, Christmas, Dirty Talk, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Feminine Harry Styles, Genderfluid Harry Styles, Good Girl Harry, Handcuffs, Hanukkah, Masturbation, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Romance, The Juice Cover, she/her harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bijasi/pseuds/bijasi
Summary: In 24 days, Harry finds a way to spend time with various partners - including some new ones she meets along the way - all while working to plan a Christmas Eve party, releasing a new album and making public appearances.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Ben Winston, Harry Styles/King Princess/Kristen Stewart, Harry Styles/Original Male Character(s), Jeff Azoff/Harry Styles, Sarah Jones/Mitch Rowland/Harry Styles, Xander Ritz/Harry Styles
Kudos: 22





	1. Curls, Cows & Couches

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of a 24-part drabble series.

There’s one lock of hair that won’t fucking stay put and she’s horrifyingly close to just taking a pair of scissors and chopping it, but she knows better. She flattens it on one side again, pressing it down hard to her head and then lets go only to watch it bounce up and back over to the other side in a weird arc. 

“Where do you think they came up with the name cowlick anyway?” She asks, holding the piece of hair down where it _should_ be and walking into the living room. 

Xander angles his head toward her first and then finally his eyes follow after he finishes the sentence he was reading. “What?”

“Cowlicks,” Harry continues. “Why are they called that?” She falls onto the couch next to Xander, still holding her hair in its rightful place. “Like, did a cow actually lick someone’s hair once?”

Xander’s mouth twists in an attempt to keep his laugh in, and he closes his book with a finger tucked into the page. “Yes. The cow’s name was Myrtle.”

“That’s a horrible name,” Harry shakes her head. 

“Well, she was a horrible cow. Going around licking peoples’ hair. Let me see.”

Harry furrows her brow and presses her painted fingers closer to the roots of her hair. 

Xander reaches up and gently pushes at her fingers. “Let me see,” he repeats softer. 

Harry’s hesitant, but she eventually drags her fingers down the bit of hair and then lets go. It immediately pops back over to the other side and Xander snorts at it. “Hey,” she shoves at his shoulder. 

“I’m -,” he gives her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. It’s cute.”

“You’re being condescending.”

“I’m _being_ honest.” Xander runs a finger softly down the curl of hair where it arcs gently over her part. He continues to run his finger down past her eyebrow, down her cheek, along her jaw and finally tilts her face up. He leans forward to kiss her and then smiles against her mouth. “Do you want me to try to lick it back into place?”

Despite herself, Harry laughs at that and then pushes at Xander’s shoulders enough at that he’s lying back on the couch, his book falling to the carpet.

“I lost my page,” Xander complains through a smile. 

“Sorry, did you prefer to read about…” Harry leans over the couch (stupid lock of hair bouncing in her vision) to eye the book, “air traffic control?” Harry looks back at Xander confused. “Why are you reading about air traffic control?” 

Xander’s mouth quirks up. “Don’t worry about that right now. More important things going on.” He runs his hand across Harry’s bottom lip gently. 

The touch is enough for Harry to already dip her hips down on command, pressing against Xander enough for him to feel how hard she’s gotten just from his hands on her. 

“You know,” Xander considers, “you might be able to get away with this little guy if the rest of your hair is messed up just as much.” He flicks the lock of hair and his eyes scan over the rest. 

Harry ducks down to kiss softly behind his ear, and Xander can feel her mouth curl into a smile. “What’d you have in mind?” 

Xander’s hand gently runs across another section of her hair and then curls two of his fingers into it. 

Harry lifts up just a bit to look into his eyes as she frowns. “Well that’s not gonna do shit, is it?”

Xander’s brow quirks up in question. 

Harry presses her hips down again, now fully hard again him and twists her mouth to the side in a sneaky kind of smile. “Come on, Ritz. Get me all types of messed up.”


	2. Day Two: Sweater Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has trouble finding something to wear before her flight. Xander thinks there might be something else to it.

“You’re gonna be late,” Xander sighs. He quietly taps his car keys against the wood of the table and waits for a response that doesn’t come. He twists his wrist to look down at the watch again. 

It’s ten after six and the Philadelphia traffic on a Monday isn’t good on a normal day, never mind the Monday after Thanksgiving. He angles his wrist down again and taps the key twice more on the table before he looks in the direction of the hallway that leads to the bedroom. “Harry?”

When there’s still no response, he pushes up from the table and walks off toward the room. He turns in the doorway and then pauses to eye the clothing strewn all over the room. A pair of navy trousers with floral buttons hanging from the corner of the bed, a yellow button down shirt balled up on top of a light blue one, a second pair of tan trousers with one leg inside-out sprawled on the floor, a single boot tossed off to the side abandoned by its matching one over by the closet. 

“Harry?” Xander tries again, a bit more skeptical. 

Harry finally appears, slumping out of the master bathroom pulling an orange jumper over herself. It doesn’t quite match the red underwear, but then, there should also be pants there. 

“Harry, why aren’t you dressed yet? We need to go. Your flight’s in an hour and we still need to drive out there.”

“Nothing fits.”

Xander blinks at her. “You can’t be serious.”

Harry’s brows dip lower in the center. 

Xander recognizes the frustration that layers itself over her shoulders and wraps around her. It’s the frustration that comes at the end of every visit, one that he’s worked to ignore but one that Harry’s not so good at fighting. And it’s because of this that Xander finds himself smiling and walking forward to pick up the tan trousers. He flips them so the right leg is correct and then folds them in his arms. “What happened with the jeans?” he nods toward a pair of jeans that he can now see on the floor of the bathroom.

Harry shrugs and pulls at the hem of the jumper. “They feel tight.”

Xander glances up at her again but then turns to fold the shirts. “And these?” he tilts his head toward the blue trousers hanging from the bed. 

“I don’t like the pinstripes.”

Xander looks at her over his shoulder. “You love those pants.”

Harry shrugs again and folds her arms. She leans against the door jamb. “Not today.”

Xander finishes folding both shirts and tosses them on top of the tan pants. He sits down on the edge of the bed looks at her. “What’s going on, Harry?”

Harry’s eyes trace the room for a bit and then she mumbles, “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Well, since that’s not what this is about, I’m gonna ask again. What’s going on?”

Harry’s eyes finally land on him. “Do you like this jumper?”

Xander fights the urge to sigh and, instead, offers a gentle smile. “I think it looks great on you. You look cozy.”

“‘m not.” She pushes off the door jamb and starts pulling at it, but Xander stands and reaches forward to stop her. 

“Come here,” he says, gently pulling her forward. He sits back on the bed and pulls her to climb onto his lap. “You don’t wanna go?”

Harry is staring at the zipper of Xander’s pullover as she rubs the material between her fingers. 

Xander reaches forward to kiss softly at her jaw. “Ree?” 

Harry’s mouth quirks just a tiny bit on one side at the nickname. She flips the zipper to eye the design on it. “I don’t actually have to be there until, like, the tenth. I don’t understand why I have to go now.” 

“Well, you have to be there by the sixth, actually. Fourth if you still want to see Brett for his birthday.”

“‘t’s not for another two days.”

“Harry,” Xander smiles the soft warning at her. “Come on.” He bounces his leg just a bit to stir her from her stare at his zipper. 

“I don’t want to go,” she finally says, meeting his gaze. 

“You have to, sweetheart.”

Harry leans forward and presses her nose to Xander’s neck. “Or I can just stay here and change my flight.”

“That’ll be the second time,” he laughs. “Your team is gonna hate me.”

“I’ll fire them.”

“You’d never do that.”

“I know.” She leans back and shrugs. “I can still pretend to.”

“Come on,” Xander taps her legs. “Let’s get you some pants.

“I still don’t like this jumper,” she pouts. 

Xander can’t help his smile when she gets bratty, and finally gives in. “Okay.” He leans back enough to pull his own off. “Switch.”

Harry’s eyes light up just a touch. “Yeah?”

“Come on,” he urges. 

Harry pulls the orange jumper off and lets Xander pull his own over her instead. The sleeves are a touch too big and drape a bit past her wrists, the shoulder seams don’t fall correctly, and when she zips the front of it up a bit more, the collar bends awkwardly on the right side, but she smiles. “Better.”

Xander leans forward and kisses her softly. “Much.”

Watching her walk past security without him is always tough, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, the sleeves of Harry’s jumper tugged up to his forearms to mask that they’re too short for him. 

She turns back before she walks through the detectors to offer one last smile that Xander matches with his own. It’s their last goodbye of the decade, but all it means to Xander is that they’ll get a whole new one to look forward to the next time they see each other. 


	3. Day Three: Sweet Like Peaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes it to Brett's birthday back in LA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note this chapter is nsfw and does contain 18+ themes. This includes: blowjobs, begging, orgasms, coming without touching, alcohol, tiny bit of a praise kink. If I've forgotten to mention anything that should be in this list, please let me know so I can adjust it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it as much as Harry!

She’s got a crooked yellow lei around her neck that drapes around one shoulder as well with a flower in her hair to match. It’s tilted a bit now, dangerously close to falling out, but its leaf is caught inside of a curl that it clings to, and it remains safely tucked behind her ear. 

The tequila tastes familiar. It’s a peach flavored 1800 that Harry reserves for Brett and as she sips it from the small straw, she scans the crowd until her gaze lands on him dancing between a few friends to some pop song. 

When the song ends, Brett finally winds his way from the group of friends and ends up at the bucket of champagnes and wines, sifting through them to find what he wants.

“Looking for something specific?” Harry asks, peering over his shoulder into the bucket.

Brett’s smile quirks up as he moves another wine bottle to read the label. “Think I might’ve found it.”

Harry tilts her head a bit more to read the label, but Brett drops it back in the bucket and looks up at her. 

“And what’re you drinking?”

Harry looks down at it and opens her mouth to answer, but Brett jumps in. 

“Let me guess,” he says. 

Harry flicks her gaze back up to meet his.

The bathroom walls of the backwoods bar have a wonderful design of rundown city landscapes and it’s against a crumbling high-rise that Harry is pushed with her hands pinned above her head. She ducks her head forward, but Brett pulls back just a bit to eye her. 

“I missed you,” Brett smiles.

Harry leans her head back against the wall but keeps her gaze on Brett’s mouth. 

“What?” Brett laughs. “Nothing back?”

“Much better things we can be doing than talking,” Harry says down to him. She pushes her hips forward against him.

“Fair enough,” he says with a tilt of his head. He drops his gaze down between them to find the material of her trousers stretched over her. “How long’ve you been like this?”

“Too long.”

Brett tilts his head just a bit and glances back up at her. “Sure about that?”

She nods.

Brett can start to hear the build up to a whine and he wonders if he’ll have to pull it from her or if it’ll just break loose on its own. He tightens his grip on her wrists just slightly and - there it is, choked out of her like she tried to stop it before falling helpless to it.

“Come on,” she pleaded. “It’s your birthday.”

“Mhm,” Brett nodded. “And why does that mean I should be giving you what you want?”

“Because I want it.”

Despite the role he’s falling into, he breaks into a smile. “How do we ask for things we want?”

Harry drops her gaze down between them as she pushes her hips forward again. “C’mon.”

“Not quite, sweetheart,” Brett laughs. He squeezes her wrists again and it earns him another sigh.

“Please?” she finally asks. 

“There’s my peach,” Brett murmurs and then reaches up to bite gently at the place where her neck reaches her collarbones. He pulls back and then runs one of his hands down her arm and then pulls at the lei.

She moves forward obediently and finally tastes the pinot noir he’d been drinking throughout the night.

“Always so sweet,” he says against her lips, the tequila sending his taste buds buzzing. 

“I’m sweet everywhere, you know,” she mumbles.

“Oh?”

She presses forward again and whines as she feels him against her thigh. She finally brings down her free hand from where she kept it above her and pulls hard at his belt loops. “Let me taste.”

Brett plays with the lei for a moment as he considers the offer. “Keep this on?”

Harry nods down at him and then tugs a bit at her pinned wrist.

He lets go of it in favor of unbuttoning her shirt and sliding it off her shoulders. He tweaks one nipple, then another as he feels her press against his thigh again. 

She starts to slide down the wall, but he stops her. She looks at him questioningly.

“Patience, sweet,” he says, fingers tracing down her side and across her waistband.

“Why?” she pouts.

Brett’s smile quirks. “It’s been a while. I wanna take this all in.”

“I wanna come.”

His eyes snap up to meet hers. “You’re being especially uncooperative today. You’ve been spoiled while you were away, hm?”

Harry’s only response was dropping her gaze to his jeans as she unsnapped them. 

“I’ll have to have a chat with Xander, it seems, about how much he lets you get away with.”

“He lets me have what I want.”

Brett lifts her head just a bit with a gentle touch beneath her chin. “And I don’t?”

Harry’s breath comes shakingly now.

“Are you gonna hold it against me that I like to play with my food before I eat it?”

Harry lets out another small choked whine as her brows come together. Her hand slips down into his jeans then and she swallows when he presses into her palm. 

“You look good when you have to wait,” he says softly. 

“Bet I’d look better on my knees,” Harry reminds him.

“You want me to leave the door unlocked?”

Harry’s gaze shifts as she seems to consider it, but eventually she looks back at him as she nods.

Brett lets out a small laugh through his smile and then nods. “Okay, peach.” He runs his thumb over her bottom lip and then steps back just a touch to give her room where she’s against the wall. “You’ve been good enough, I guess.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, eyes lighting up.

Brett laughs again. “Yeah. You wanna come now?”

“God yes,” Harry sighs out.

Brett shifts and slips his hands down into her trousers. He runs his fingers along the length of her until he feels a small wet spot by the head of her cock. “Jesus,” he sighs out. “Nice and ready, hm?”

Harry nods as she swallows and pushes against his hand.

“Alright.” He pulls his hand back out and tugs at the waistband of her trousers. “Get these off, I don’t want you to ruin them. They look too nice on you.”

She moves quickly as she slides them down and steps out of them, left in just her underwear and boots. 

Brett leans up to press another kiss against her before he steps back just a touch. “Okay, peach. Have your fun.”

Something akin to relief breaks on her face and then she’s sliding down his body, her bare knees pressing into the bathroom tile. 

It only takes a few minutes before she’s groaning around him, and he grips the lei, twisting it enough to tighten around her neck. He can see the spot on her underwear grow a touch bigger until she moves forward to take him fully into her mouth again. He lets his head fall back as she continues, and a moment later her mouth falls slack as she chokes out a gasp. He looks down from where he’s leaning on the wall above her to see her holding her palm against herself. “Let’s see then, peach.”

She swallows and pulls off of him and looks up, eyes glassy and lips bright red. 

Brett nods down to her just once.

She leans back enough that her shoulders hit against the wall and, still looking up at him, she moves her hand enough for him to see the mess she’s made in her underwear.

Brett flicks his gaze back up to meet hers. “C’mon,” he tugs gently at her hair to urge her to stand but, as expected, she shakes her head. “No?”

“Can I finish?”

Brett’s mouth quirks softly a bit before he nods down at her. “Go ahead, peach. You did so good.”

She smiles up at him before she pushes off the wall and leans forward again to take him into the back of her throat over and over until he spills into her, watching a bit drip out from the side of her mouth. When she pulls back from him, she wipes at it with the back of her hand and then looks up at him. “Thank you.”

Brett tucks himself back into his jeans and drops down to squat level with her. He picks up the yellow flower that’s fallen from her hair and tucks it back behind her ear. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Harry’s face falls then into something close to confusion and then she’s shaking her head.

“No?” Brett asks. “You want to go back out there like this?” he nods down to her underwear. 

She only nods back as a response.

Brett smiles and shakes his head at her. “How’d we get so lucky with you, hm?”

Harry’s smile curves up and then she tugs gently at Brett’s shirt to pull him forward into a kiss that still somehow tastes of peach with a hint of pride.


	4. Day Four: French Toast Farewells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Brett's birthday, Harry says goodbye to Brett.

Morning streams through the curtains before she’s quite ready to wake up and she ducks her head just beneath the blankets, enough to cover her eyes. There’s something musky and smoky about the bedding as she breathes in and her memories slowly melt into place in her head. 

As if on cue, she suddenly feels a steady weight at the dip in her waist. She lifts her head just a bit to bring her eyes out from the comforter again and squints against the light. There, on the edge of the bed, sits Brett smiling down at her. 

“Morning, Peach.”

“Mmm,” she groans and ducks under the blanket. 

Brett lets out a small bark of a laugh and then peels the blanket back a bit more. “Come on. I made breakfast.”

“Pancakes?” she asks against the comforter.

Brett tilts his head back and forth. “French toast.”

There’s a beat of silence before she responds. “Flavor?”

Brett’s mouth curls. “Cinnamon.”

She hums in thought before she pulls the comforter down and looks up at him. “Would you hate me if I asked for mine to go?”

Brett lets out a small laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she whines up at him and pulls the comforter completely down this time and rubs her hands over her face to wake up fully. “It’s just… it’s already ten and if I’m late today Jeff’s gonna have my ass.”

“As if you’d complain.”

Harry drops her hands and gives Brett a flat look. 

Brett holds his hands up in surrender and stands from the bed to wander back out to the kitchen. He calls back from the hallway to ask how many pieces she wants.

“Two! Three!” She furrows her brow as she sits up. “Two!” She slides out of bed and stumbles into the hall, inhales the sweet maple and cinnamon smell from the kitchen and then ducks into the bathroom to shower. It’s only five minutes later that she’s jumping back out and running a towel through her hair. 

“All set, Peach?” Brett asks, leaning in the doorway she’s left open. 

“Just about.” She tosses the towel aside and takes the folded pile of clothing he offers her. “Blue?” she asks him.

Brett shrugs. “I like that shirt on you. Were you thinking a different color?”

“Blue works,” she smiles. She pulls the light blue panties on and follows with the navy jumper before a toothbrush is shoved into her mouth, trousers still folded on the counter to be put on last, as always.

“You were wonderful last night,” Brett says softly.

Harry pauses in her movements and looks at him in the mirror. Her mouth curls up around the toothbrush and then she covers her mouth as she spits down into the sink and runs the water. She turns and leans her hip on the sink as she smiles at him. “Go on.”

Brett can’t help the snort that comes from him at the way she preens. This has always been Harry’s favorite part of visiting him. But then, it’s always been his, too. He steps forward and pulls her toward him gently. He looks up from her mouth to her eyes. “You were generous,” he says softly, “and obedient.” He can practically feel her buzzing beneath his hands where they rest at her waist. He leans up a bit to press his nose to her neck and smell his soap on her skin. “Incredibly responsive all night.”

As if on cue, she shudders under the way his lips graze her neck. 

“Just like that,” he smiles and steps back from her. “Always so good for me.”

She twists her mouth, but her cheeks are still tinged pink with pride. 

“I don’t know why I tell you all of this,” Brett laughs. “You know just how good and cooperative you were.”

Harry drops her gaze but then drags it back up a bit to look at him. “Still like to hear you say it.”

“Then I’ll never stop.”

She gives a small bite to her bottom lip to keep from smiling too big, but it breaks out anyway. “Good.”

“Come on,” Brett nods to the trousers. “Pants. Your breakfast is all wrapped up for you. Need me to get you a ride?”

She unfolds the pants and shakes her head. “‘m all set.”

And, sure enough, ten minutes later, she leaves him with a quick kiss on the cheek, a promise to see him soon and an ache that’s akin to missing something that was never his to begin with. But then, that’s always been his Peach.


	5. Chapter Five: Winter Blossom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes a quiet moment in an old garden from her past to reflect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied masturbation.

Her fingers graze withered, frozen branches as she walks through the old garden. There’s a chill in the air that snakes around her bare wrists and she thinks about the oversized pullover in the wash. She’s wrapped in an old tan cardigan that falls to her knees and gets loose threads snagged on reaching crooked twigs. 

There used to be flowers here. 

Golden daffodils and violets and peonies. She’d run delicate fingers over velvet petals and think of the difference between the veins in the leaves of flowers that grow from the earth and the veins in her own skin that burst to life when she’s touched just as gently. 

Those flowers leaned toward the sun, saluted the rays as they reached down to them to warm their stems where they were exposed to the cool air. She used to follow the grains of leaves down to the cold shadowed dirt where they all began.

Now she thinks about the way the petals twist and lean to the ground until they become part of it. In the Spring, they’ll all grow anew, and she knows this on some level. The same roots will break the surface, but they’ll be twisted in new ways when they arch up and grow forth. It’s a rebirth that she knows is possible for flowers, and maybe for most living things, but mostly she wonders if it’s a sort of rebirth she can claim for herself. Sometimes, she thinks she has. Sometimes, she knows she has. 

But other times.

Other times, she grazes the withered, brittle branches beneath a still winter air that promises snow but never quite makes it there. 

She runs a thumb over the edge of one twig and feels its cracked ends scrape against her skin, bring a rough type of friction different from the soft, smooth petals of Spring. But then, she knows right down to her bones that tough can turn tender when it has to, and maybe that’s why the garden has always loved her back.

It’s proof enough when she spots the dusted pink remains of a last standing flower, guarded by a weathered down rosebush; a blanket of withered leaves holds on for the last few days creating an overhang to protect the flower. 

Harry knows the flower only has a little fight left against the winds of winter, and sometimes an eased finality can be a relief from a fight you’ve been fighting for too long.

She drags her fingers of one hand over the travertine countertop of the hotel room and, in the other, rolls the stem of the flower gently between her thumb and middle finger. It’s a small thing, not much bigger than a church candle and she wonders briefly if the scented wax of a prayer could outlast the strength of something solid that grows, despite all signs warning it not to.

She both is the flower and is loved by the flower and doesn’t bother to play with the reflection of that. Instead, she just plays.

The sheets beneath her are a four-hundred count cotton, and she’s slept in softer, been softer herself, but she melts against them as her body hums around her. Her blood trickles in rivulets inside of her and heats up beneath the cool air from the vent. Her spine bends and arcs and sways like a stem and she swears she hears the breezes and buzzes of spring in her ears beneath a sun that isn’t there in the night sky above her and it builds and grows inside of her and she’s thinking that her skin can be just as soft as the petals that graze it now and then, and then, and then - 

When the waves inside of her have fallen to a low tide and the cool air once again reminds her that winter will still come every year to chase the garden away, she thinks about how pretty it would be if the world was just a bit different. She opens her eyes and sees how pretty the flowers would look with white snow resting on their petals. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this series that will be posted to Ao3.
> 
> If you enjoyed this piece, consider following me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/bijasiwrites) for more content!
> 
> Thank you always.  
> Love you always.


End file.
